


ldr

by songs



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Crack, M/M, and possibly - Freeform, post trk, slight TRK spoilers, this is mindless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6749680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs/pseuds/songs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No Skype sex,” Adam says, but then a thought occurs to him. “Hey, is there a portmanteau for that? Like… Skex? Or something?”</p>
<p>He regrets it almost instantaneously. Ronan doubles over, nearly knocking over his laptop as he cackles. “Yes, Parrish. Oh, yes. Have Skex with me, c’mon.”</p>
<p>or:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>The Epic Fairytale Long Distance Romance of Ronan Lynch and Adam Parrish.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	ldr

**1.**

 

“I miss you,” Ronan says, right when the line connects. Adam blushes. A warm, fraught feeling pools in his stomach.

 

“Me, too,” he admits. “Even though it’s only been three days.”

 

“Three days is a long-ass time, Parrish,” Ronan huffs. Even though Adam cannot see his face, he knows Ronan is only being playful. “For instance, it only took me about that long to finally seduce you.”

 

“ _Lies._ ” Adam laughs into his cellphone. Well—sort of. He’s not really sure it’s a phone, actually. Just a dream thing with a screen and seemingly unlimited signal-bars and data. Ronan, always the edgemaster, dreamt it so the home-screen reads ‘PEAR ™’ instead of APPLE. Adam’s roommate asked if he would jailbreak his phone, too, after he saw it. “It took you more like, a week. A month, tops.”

 

Ronan gasps in mock-hurt. “You’re telling me it wasn’t love at first sight?”

 

“Love at first hand-lotion,” Adam supplies. “Love at first moving-dolly accident.”

 

“Love at first Latin period,” Ronan adds. “Checking me out at ass A.M. _A capite ad calcem.”_

Adam snorts. “Ah, yes. So rugged in your unwashed uniform. I was practically swooning at all times.”

 

“Fuck you, Parrish,” Ronan says, but it’s mirthful. Adam imagines what his expression might look like— bright, starlike. Alive. _Ad astra._ “My virtue was at stake, back there. How dare you ogle me below the ankles. What kind of objectification?”

 

“You’re right,” Adam says. “That was too far.”

 

“Keep it far,” Ronan says. “Leave room for Jesus.”

 

Adam actually laughs out loud. Then he goes quiet, before saying, “We’re pretty… far apart. Now, aren’t we?”

 

“Don’t get sappy on me already,” Ronan says, but he’s sounding pretty sappy himself. What a geek. “I’ll come visit. And you’re coming for Thanksgiving break. That’s in like –” Here, Ronan pauses, in a famous display of his practiced disinterest. Adam would bet good money that he has the ‘time between two dates calculator’ open in another tab. Because he does, too. “Soon. Two months. Soon.”

 

“Very soon,” Adam agrees, wishing he could believe it. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Ronan says. Adam, not wanting them to be one of _those_ couples, waits fifteen seconds before finally hanging up.

 

_Love you,_ he thinks. But that’s a confession for another day.

 

**2.**

Weeks pass, then a month. Adam and Ronan talk nearly every day, but Adam still— _wants._ Aches. Which is cliché and cheesy and everything he’d never expected of himself, of himself and _Ronan Lynch,_ of all people. But his heart lifts and goes singsong whenever he gets a message from Ronan, short and silly as it may be. _Here’s some fucking plums; Opal is teething, I think. She ate through 3 of Gansey’s polos, what a champ; Why the fuck is fertilizer so expensive? I could just dream that shit up; Thinking about you every day; Adam—_

And Adam replies back, with his own little storybook, day-today snippets. Boston— _Harvard—_ is bustling, alight. A tiny place with enormous life— nothing like Henrietta with its dust, its grime, its narrow-minds. But also, everything like Henrietta, for all the magic, the oddities, the strange, charming people. Adam loves it here. Adam could spend his life here, except—

 

There’s someplace— some _one_ — else that feels more like home.

 

**3.**

 

Ronan picks up the Skype call after approximately 0.2 seconds. Adam is immediately relieved.

 

“Hey,” Ronan says, though he looks a bit confused. “Don’t you have lab right now?”

 

Adam nods. “Yeah… about that.”

 

Ronan’s face brightens up instantly. He’s grinning when he says, “No fucking way, Parrish. You’re _skipping_?”

 

Adam is appropriately scandalized. “Of course I’m not, you ass!” Ronan doesn’t stop laughing at him, so Adam ‘regretfully’ cuts in with, “Actually, our lab proctor kind of bailed.”

 

“The fuck?” Ronan asks.

 

“Well,” Adam starts. “So, like. This one girl kind of set her hair on fire with the Bunsen Burner—” Ronan’s eyes widen. “But don’t worry, she’s totally okay, her partner put it out and the only casualties were her extensions.” Ronan cackles at that. “Anyway, the alarm still went off and the entire science building had to evacuate. We were outside for twenty minutes and I guess our proctor had enough. He said he was going to UBurger and sort of just… left.”

 

Ronan beams. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”

 

“Hey,” Adam begins. “Don’t say stuff like that. I might start feeling threatened.”

 

“Oh? Is he that much of a catch?”

 

“Of course,” Adam says. “Forty with a wife and kids. Kind of bald. I heard he almost got arrested once for tax evasion.”

 

“Dangerous,” Ronan says. “And wild. You should’ve followed him to UBurger.”

 

Adam rolls his eyes. “We all know I have a thing for the bald ones, I guess.”

 

“I’m not _bald,_ you shit. My head is _shaved_.”

 

“Bald,” Adam repeats, grinning.

 

“I’m going to dream up the ugliest fucking sweater and make it so that you’ll never be able to take it off until you take that fucking slander back.”

 

“My beautiful, bald boyfriend,” Adam says, ignoring him. “You _wound_ me so.”

 

**4.**

 

 

“I see your roommate is absent,” Ronan comments, during one of their nightly Skype-calls. There’s a mischievous tilt to his smile.

 

Adam immediately shoots him down. “We are _not_ having Skype sex, Ronan. Matt is coming back from the dining hall in like— four minutes.”

 

“Four minutes is plenty,” Ronan says. “If you put your mind to it.”

 

“ _No Skype sex_ ,” Adam says, but then a thought occurs to him. “Hey, is there a portmanteau for that? Like… Skex? Or something?”

 

He regrets it almost instantaneously. Ronan doubles over, nearly knocking over his laptop as he cackles. “Yes, Parrish. Oh, yes. Have _Skex_ with me, c’mon.”

 

“I’m not having _Skex with you_ —!” Adam is about to break down himself. The laugh is bubbling in his throat— but then the dorm-door swings open, his roommate strolling inside with a packet of cereal in hand.

 

“Who’s having what now?” Matt asks, curiously.

 

Before Ronan can say the ‘S’ word again, Adam shrills, “ _Nothing_.”

 

Matt, however, only quirks his brow, before peering down at Adam’s— secondhand— laptop screen.

 

He says, solemnly, “Adam, bro. You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was _hot_.”

 

Adam is never speaking to anyone. Ever. Again.

 

**5.**

**_From: Ronan_ **

**_4:58 P.M_ **

_So you’re coming home this weekend for break? Need a ride?_

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_4:59 P.M_ **

_Sure. Bring Opal along. I miss her._

**_From: Ronan_ **

**_5:01 P.M_ **

_Idk if I can. I might need to leave her with the psychic squad. She doesn’t do well with long car-rides._

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_5:01 P.M._ **

_Oh I c. She still teething?_

**_From: Ronan_ **

**_5:02 P.M._ **

_Ya, she’s eating p much everything. Hey, wouldn’t it be funny as shit if she ate gwenllian?_

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_5:03 P.M._ **

_…_

**_From: Ronan_ **

**_5:04 P.M._ **

_Those ellipses don’t sound like disagreement_

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_5:05 P.M._ **

_So everyone’s coming to town_

**_From: Ronan_ **

**_5:06 P.M._ **

_Yup Sarchengsey is officially pausing their year-long threesome for some family time in Henrietta_

 

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_5:06 P.M._ **

_Ronan lol stop kinkshaming our friends. They’re happy_

**_From: Ronan_ **

**_5:07 P.M_ **

_fine, fine, you MassHole._

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_5:08 P.M._ **

_did you just leave everything in that text uncapitalized except for masshole_

**_From: Ronan_ **

**_5:09 P.M_ **

_u didn’t have to call me out like that Parrish_

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_5:11 P.M._ **

_I’ll always call you out_

**_From: Ronan_ **

**_5:12 P.M_ **

_Oh yeah?_

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_5:14 P.M._ **

  1. _also, Btw_



**_From: Ronan_ **

**_5:16 P.M_ **

_yea?_

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_5:18 P.M._ **

_it’s not just blue/gansey/henry that are happy. Im happy too_

**_From: Ronan_ **

**_5:20 P.M_ **

_in Boston you mean?_

**_To: Ronan_ **

**_5:21 P.M._ **

_no, silly. With you_

**_6._ **

****

 

Adam’s friends are probably more excited to see Ronan than he is. They’ve been bugging him about it for days. _Adam, when is your smokeshow BF arriving? Adam, is he really a farmer? Adam, what are your thoughts on polyamorous relationships—_

When Ronan pulls up in front of the freshman-dorm buildings, Adam’s breath catches. He just— everything begins to replay, from their first, less-than-pleasant meeting at Aglionby, to the long, summer days spent at the Barns, misty as a half-dream. Their first kiss, their second, their third, _thirtieth_ — and now, Ronan stepping out of his car, looking every bit the same but different, softer somehow, with his sunned-skin and his pearly smile.

 

Adam doesn’t think. He _acts._ He’s always been that way, but Ronan always manages to bring these parts of him out into the open. _Be brave, be brave, be brave—_

“I missed—”

 

“I love you,” Adam blurts, and it’s kind of ill-timed, because he’s still rushing forward, but the confession seems to surprise him as much as it does Ronan. He loses his footing, and so does Ronan, and they’re falling into a very, very embarrassing heap in front of at least fifteen onlookers, all of whom have their smartphone-cameras out.

 

They crash into the side-door of Ronan’s BMW. The alarm goes off. Adam is not at all shocked to hear the beginning notes of the _Murder Squash_ song playing between each rhythmic beep. More people are coming out now, but Ronan is laughing, and so is Adam, and they’re kissing in front of an audience, like a couple of moonstruck losers, (“Parrish, you goddamn _exhibitionist”)_ but it’s okay, it’s totally okay, because it’s them, and they’re happy, and they’re together, right here and now.

 

“I love you too, you dweeb,” Ronan says against his mouth. “But warn me, next time you go for a jump-tackle. A man’s gotta be prepared—”

 

“Shut up,” Adam says, silencing him with another kiss. Ronan, for his part, seems glad to oblige. And Adam—

 

Adam Parrish is _so happy_.

**Author's Note:**

> IDK M AN. I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY


End file.
